“And standing at, six foot, three inches, Luke Skullcrusher McConnell,” the announcer said in a tone that grated on my nerves.
I cracked my neck, rotating my head from side to side, pushing out my annoyance.
“Let’s have a clean fight,” the ref, Ronnie Smith, said as we approached the center of the cage. He lifted his arm, pausing, giving Rodriguez and I sideways looks before lowering his arm and jumping out of the way. The bell sounded and the fight was on.
We circled the cage, arms in the on-guard position. Rodriguez made the first move by kicking out with his left leg. I quickly sidestepped that attack, but that left me open to the right hook he landed in my ribs.
He grunted and smirked as if he’d proven something.
My usual shit talking didn’t come to me. I didn’t feel like talking. When Rodriguez left his left side open, trying to hit me with a jab, I went in and caught the tip of his chin. It wasn’t a knockout blow, but it caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes and swung wildly with another right hook. That let me go in for a hook of my own with my left. I clipped his chin again and he stumbled backward.
He couldn’t match me standing, so I knew eventually he’d go in for the takedown. This early in the fight, my goal was to continue moving, remain on my feet and weaken him with my standing game.
“Son of a bitch,” he bellowed when I caught him in the ribs this time with a left uppercut.
For the first time since the fight started, that spark of energy passed through my belly. It was short lived, however, when I missed Rodriguez going in for the takedown. He got low and moved in, wrapping his arms around my legs, toppling the both of us to the ground. Moving fast, I scooted my body back against the cage to prevent him from getting full control of me.
We traded punches and elbows, no one really doing any serious damage. While I didn’t lose much ground, the fact that I was the one with my literal back against the cage and Rodriguez was better known for his groundwork, wasn’t working in my favor.
It felt like it took forever for that five minute bell to ring. When it did, Rodriguez jumped up, as did I, and we moved to our respective corners. The cutman looked me over and someone, Lenny or David, pressed an icepack to my back.
“That was good,” Lenny said, sounding unconvincing.
“Len, shut up,” I growled, still staring across the cage. I was off my game and I knew it.
The minute break flew by and Rodriguez and I were soon back in the center of the cage, circling one another. He came out more aggressive that round, as was expected. I held my own and managed to land a few more body blows and chin shots to slow him down.
“Come on, McConnell,” he grunted as we tumbled to the floor again. “You can’t win this.”
“Stop talking, motherfucker, your breath smells like the dump I took this morning,” I said right before landing an elbow to the side of his head.
That stunned him but he recovered too fast and I found myself on my back. He attempted to put me in a triangle, locking me up, but I held him off until the bell went off, ending the second round.
“Shit,” I cursed, slapping the water bottle out of David’s hand when he tried to pass it to me.
“Calm—”
“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down,” I growled at Lenny. I pushed the cutman away after he pressed that damn enswell to my temple. While I could feel the blood trickling down my eyebrow from one of Rodriguez’s elbows, I knew it wasn’t enough to worry about. I needed direction and David didn’t know my strategy well enough to direct me. In fact, every time he tried to give advice, it pissed me off.
The bell for the third round sounded and Rodriguez and I came out guns blazing this time. Instead of waiting for him to make a move, this round I went in, taking him down. He fell with me on top, but I knew that wasn’t necessarily a safe position to be in with someone as skilled as him on the ground. I went in for an elbow, but he slipped it and lifted his hips, maneuvering in a way that had me landing on my stomach.
Shit!I was in trouble when he moved over my back and started going in for the chokehold.
He began applying pressure and within a few heartbeats my vision started to blur. I only had seconds before I made the decision to tap out or pass the fuck out. Either option was a loss for me.
Waltz, Luke!
I blinked and listened for that sound again.
Waltz with him!
The memory of dancing around the cage in San Diego with Syd came to mind.
Waltz.
Syd
I walked into the main entrance of the arena with the rest of the audience members. It pained me to know that I was nothing more than a regular spectator of the fight. While I put in hours as Luke’s trainer and wanted to see that dedication all the way through, what hurt most was that I couldn’t be there for Luke for emotional support.
